


VICE

by Daniel_Sinclair



Category: No Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 20:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13038369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daniel_Sinclair/pseuds/Daniel_Sinclair





	VICE

I drank up and finished my tea, freshly brewed and sweetened with honey. Walking over to the entryway of my home, the love of my life is slowly taking the steps down, mildly tired from all the work she’s done yesterday. Quite busy yesterday in the local gentleman’s club. Perhaps it was her that made all the profit come true, though I’m proud of her. I picked up a small clicker that’s placed on top of the counter near the indoor plants of the entryway. Clicking on the top button of the clicker, I started pouring water over the plants in the entryway. I yawned, stretching out and raising my head up to the windowed skylight, in which was illuminating the room better than any other bulb money can buy. I clicked on the button again, shutting off the water. Moving towards the kitchen, the counter, my girlfriend inserts two pieces of bread inside a toaster. She turns it on and takes it out after a few seconds. She spreads jam over it, cleans the knife off as she finishes, walks to counter, and sits down to eat. I took a seat next to her. It’s 9:46 in the morning.

 

“Sleep well?” I said quietly.

She nods. “I’m glad it’s a Saturday. I don’t want to go to work today.”

I faced towards the other end of the table, slightly raising my shoulders “Well,” I said. “My boss doesn’t have anything for me to pick up so… I’m free for now. Hopefully just for today”

She smiled. “I don’t want you to go anywhere, babe.” she pleaded, guiding her hand towards mine and gently holding my scarred but tender hand. She wasn’t the only one who worked hard.

“How about we go somewhere?” I suggested. “Why don’t about we-”

 

I heard cars racing around the corner and came to a complete stop to the front of my home. I got up from my chair, confused. I hear car doors opening and slamming. What does my boss want from me now? Can I not get a free day just to myself?

Guns are being cocked and prepped just outside. In a split second before realizing, they start firing, spraying across the entire front of my home and shattering the living room windows. I’m not entirely sure if they planned to kill me or just trash my home that I’ve worked hard on buying, but either way, it’s not making me happy. They fired aimlessly, gave us brief time to hide behind the counter, putting our heads down. Lauren is frightened, clueless in what to do.  When it comes to gunfights, she’s usually never a target, especially when she’s involved. Unlike myself, she hates guns and wished it’d be the last thing to use in her life, a non-violent type, no less.  However where she works, gunfights are common but as long as she’s not being shot at, things won’t be as terrifying. I regret bringing her into some of my “issues”, but hopefully it will not happen again. It won’t happen again. 

After roughly a minute or two, the goons stop firing.

 

“Wait here.” I whisper.

 

Lauren nods, placing her trust in me. Good thing for her that I’m always able to retaliate and resolve these “issues” “my way”. I swiftly unload the counter drawer, from my right side. I take out my revolver, the only gun I have in this household while keeping my promise to never stash guns into this house. I whip out the cylinder, checking to see if it’s loaded. 6 bullets at max.

Convenient enough, the door breaks down. I run out of cover, locking aim onto one the intruders. They look in my direction, alerted.

 

“There she is!” one of them yelled out.

 

I shoot one of them, took aim at the remaining, firing once more. They both fall to the ground. More men march inside, firing where I am. Out of instinct, I swiftly move to the left of the doorway, advancing myself into the living room but closer to the doorway, in which the living room was covered in shattered glass. I hid behind the couches. 

Across from me, I see Lauren taking out the shelves from inside one of the empty cabinets to step inside and hide herself. I poked my head up, took quick aim at the men searching for me, and I fired away. The bullets pierced through their blackened suits and into the flesh, tearing through like butter. Expectedly, all except one collapse. Filled with fear, the last one runs off.

 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here!” yelled out the honcho

 

Fast footsteps stomped around the yard, doors opened and slammed, cars were ignited and the engines were angrily revving, and out they went, the tires screeching and burning the rubber off the tires. I unload the cylinder, shaking out the casings.  _ Bink, bink, bink  _ they went as they hit the ground. I quickly walk over to the same drawer where I found my revolver to find more ammunition. Exactly where I left it long ago, there were two boxes of .44 pulse. I took the one of the boxes out, shook out what’s inside, reloaded my hand cannon and tucked the rest inside my pocket. I snatch the keys from the counter.

 

I run to the back end of the house, barging out the door, and into my garage. I rip out the worn blue plastic covers off the Challenger, unlocked the driver side and entered, and turned on the car. From the inside, the windshield’s advanced cover disintegrated granting full vision. I flip the switch from up top in my seat, quickly opening the garage door. I then shift the gear to drive, put pressure on the gas to move up on the driveway, stopped and turned right at the end of the driveway. I floored it, forcing the car to roar throughout the streets, chasing the cars of those goons. I made sure to slow down to pass upcoming cars. 

The sky darkened a little. Soon, at the far end of the district, perhaps in the city, lighting started to form in the clouds. Soon, bolts starts sparking about across the clouds and down into the ground, maybe deep inside the city. Not paying anymore attention to the sky above, I put my focus onto the road. My heart was beating as fast as the Challenger, swiftly passed through the streets.

 

“ Warning! Heart rate level: Extreme! Administering Digoxin-IV .”  the neural interface beeped.

I shiver, in some effort in calming myself down. “Right…” I said quietly

 

I began to feel relaxed and yet more focused. I pass numerous highway bridges and soon the city limits of Miami. Traffic is slightly heavy than I expected, so I slowed down. Luckily, I found a straight, trafficless road. I took my hands off the wheel for a while and started reloading the revolver. Quickly finishing up, I put my hands back on the wheel. 

I delved deeper into the city, managing to catch with the intruders. I power-slide the car around the corner and came to a complete stop in front of a rich bar, three recognizable men just waiting outside. I closed the cylinder of the revolver, stepped outside the car, and fanned the hammer on the gangsters. The gangsters showed no resistance and dropped onto the pavement. Civilians, reacting to the gunfire, ran and screamed away except one. The only man in the street, stared at me, then slowly back away and ran. Out of all the brainless men I’ve encountered, this one looked different from everyone else. Different hair, different clothing, and a different look. No technology advancement infused or anything. Pure.

 

“Hey!” I yelled. “Come back here!”

 

The man dusted off as fast he could, curving around the corner and . Only this time, I don’t plan to shoot him down, despite the fact that I want to and that it’s my #1 instinct when encountering a man. After all, he doesn’t look like one of the goons, or a lieutenant in fact and saving bullets for the right man is smart. Nonetheless, he’s awfully suspicious, so I sprint after him. With him looking back and slowing himself down, I caught up and tackled him to the ground.

 

“Who are you!? Did you send those fucks to my house!?!?” I barked, aiming my gun at               

him.

“Nonononono please! I didn’t do anything wrong! Don’t shoot!” He pleaded, 

hyperventilating.

 

The wailing sirens echoed across Miami; the police was summoned. I got off from him, pulled him up with my left hand, pushed him around the corner and towards my car, and into the passenger seat. I swiftly walked around the car and entered the driver seat. I closed the door, shifted the Challenger to drive and sped away from the area. I took many shortcuts and empty routes to get home as fast as possible, dodging every patrolman in sight. As I left with the city with the strange man, I head back to my home. The front yard was ruined and looked scarred from the goons’ cars and its tires, which treaded about on the lawn. I slowly drove my car up the driveway of my raided home, close to the garage door at the very back of the lot. I parked the car and got out, walked over to the passenger door, and took the stranger out from the seat. I push him towards the side door of the garage and shoved him inside. He dropped down to the dirty floor as sweat dripped from his face and hit the ground. I close the door behind me, flipping the switch up. The old bulb flickers.

 

I pull up a chair from the neat pile of supplies I stored not too long ago. 

“Let’s have a chat, boy.” I said.

I push the chair towards him. “Sit.” I ordered

He quickly sat on it, shaken as he can be.

“Now,” I continued “You’re going to tell me your name and if you have any business with…

Whatever just happened.” I said, waving my gun around.

“O-o-okay… My name is Bart.” the man said “And I’m not from this… time.”

I raise my eyebrow. “Time?”

“Yes. I don’t think you may understand-”

“No, I’m an open-minded lady. Please, go on.” I interrupted.

Bart swallowed. “I lived in the city, this exact spot. May 7th, 1984. Exactly as I said, I’m not 

from this time.”

 

I stare at him. A time traveler. I learned of how much we advanced since the 20th century

of the 80s but to hear that time traveling became a reality such a long time ago is… confusing. 

 

“Why are you here? In this time of year?” I asked

“My father’s company is uh…” Bart hesitated. 

“Testing new prototype time machines with humans.” He finished, now calmed.

“Before I volunteered, the scientists sent in all crazy shit. Rats, dogs, chimps…

Fortunately, they all came back safely so they knew they were in the right track they 

needed to be.” He said.

“I don’t understand one thing: there’s still violence going on about in the streets. If the 

future is bound to be better, isn’t… now suppose to be peaceful? Why hasn’t our society 

found peace?”

I stared at him, then looked down. After a little while, I looked back at him.

“A synth war. Two business companies raced, still racing, just to see which one of the 

other was the best at making synthetic products for guys and gals. Synthetic organs, 

limbs, bones, and also human enhancements. That sort of thing. Both companies tried 

hiring respected gangs to take each other out and that doesn’t always work out.” I  

explained.

“Your dad’s company. What’s the name?” I asked.

“Tempus-One.” He answered.

I nod. “Yep,” I said, moving backwards and leaning the big garage door 

“That’s one of the companies. Tempus-One. Though they probably 

stopped making time machines. It’s still possible today but holy fuck is it expensive, but 

so are the synthetic products.”

            Bart bit down his bottom lip, looked down, and thought for a short second. 

           “So where do you fit in? Who’s side are you on?” Bart asked.

           “Heh. No one’s side, really.” I spoke. 

           ”The group I’m in just steals schematics and make our own synthetic products. 

            Makes them a whole lot cheaper.”

 

            He stared at my arm. “So, is that what happened to your arm?”

I shaked my head. “Nah. Accident.” I said, shrugging.

“Ouch…” he said, still staring at my arm.

“What, never had anything like this in your own time?” I asked, motioning my arm around.

“I never had or seen anything of what I just seen. Well, except that good-looking car of

yours.” he admitted.

“Stay away from the car, you little bitch.” I calmly snapped back.

“Okay,” he said. “Not going to touch your car.” he promised.


End file.
